Purple Tux
by Dixiegirl256
Summary: Post 4.22. Short, sweet, and fluffy, because there's NEVER enough happy Peter and Olivia.


When two of my favorite and most inspirational Fringies talked about Walter's Purple Tux, I knew it was meant to be.

Thanks as always to my Quantum Entangled Beta Extraordinaire, OConnellAboo, who always knows what I'm trying to say and how to make it better! Enjoy!

* * *

Peter and Olivia took a cab home from the hospital. Walter was going to stay with Astrid a bit longer, and she told them she'd make sure he got back to the lab safely.

They didn't talk much on the way. Peter's shoulder was beginning to ache, as much from the jump to the ship as from the earlier dislocation, but he still managed to wrap his good arm around Olivia and pull her close. She buried her face in his chest, and he closed his eyes until the cabbie slowed to a stop in front of her apartment.

Once in the apartment, she helped him with the sling, and then his coat, fishing out the painkillers the doctor had given him at Olivia's insistence. She filled a glass with water and shook out one of the tablets.

"No, I'm…" Peter shook his head, but the fact that he was pressing his shoulder with his good left hand was a tell he couldn't deny.

"…fine. Sorry, that's my line." Olivia held out the glass and the tablet.

He took them from her and smiled ruefully. 'Yes, ma'am," he said, mimicking his words from the lab from… yesterday? Was it just yesterday? It seemed like a lifetime ago. So much had happened in twenty-four hours – so much that he really didn't want to think about right now.

Olivia tugged his hand and led him to the bedroom. "I want a shower… and a nap."

He began fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, and Olivia helped him ease it off his shoulders. She left him on his own for his jeans; he kicked off his boots and let the rest of his clothes fall on top of them.

He heard the shower running, but as he turned towards the bathroom, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror over Olivia's dresser. The bruises on his shoulder were still deep blue and purple, and the outline of the crowbar Jones had wielded against him had not faded, either.

"Purple's not really your best look," Olivia observed from the doorway of the bathroom. She'd shed her own clothes and donned her short black robe.

"No? Walter will be so disappointed. He wanted me to wear his tux."

Olivia's brow furrowed in confusion.

Peter laughed. "Remember a couple of years ago, when Walter decided he wanted to be more independent?"

Olivia pursed her lips, thinking. "He got lost in Chinatown. And… didn't he try driving a few times?"

Peter nodded. "He drove us to a crime scene… the Staller case, the wedding." He was never sure what Olivia might or might not remember, or what might be different.

"I do remember." Olivia grinned. "He drove over the curb, and knocked over the garbage cans. And told me how lovely I looked…"

Peter had crossed the room and leaned against the doorframe next to Olivia."Yeah…. well, before that, he was telling me about his wedding day."

Olivia looked up at him in curiosity as Peter toyed with a strand of her hair. "He told me he kept his tux, in hopes that he'd have a son who would wear it someday."

As the connection dawned on Olivia, her smile widened. Peter nodded his head. "Yeah, I tried to talk him out of it, but you know Walter. He said purple never goes out of style."

Peter stood quietly for a moment. She thought there might be more to the story, but he was lost in thought, still running his fingers through her hair. She caught his hand and pressed it against her cheek.

Her touch brought him back to the moment. "Even then… he told me you were exactly what I needed." He cupped her face and leaned over to brush his lips against hers. "I didn't want to admit it then, but he was right."

Olivia looked at him very seriously. "Does that mean…" She tried to suppress a giggle. "Does that mean you'll be wearing his tux?"

Peter cocked his head and regarded her with a bemused expression. "Hmmm, I dunno. Am I getting married?"

Olivia gave him another shy smile, much like the one she'd given him at the hospital, and kissed him, then silently nudged him into the bathroom.

ooo

They took turns standing under the water in the shower; first Olivia, then Peter, with his back to the showerhead, leaning so his bad shoulder took the direct force of the spray. She wasn't sure if it was the painkillers, or the hot water, or the fact they were here, together, naked… but Peter's face was losing some of the worry that had been etched there over the last couple of days.

She pulled his head down so she could reach, and lathered shampoo into his water-soaked curls. As she massaged his head, he sighed deeply and reached for her with his good arm.

Olivia gently tipped his head back so the water streamed through his hair. She stretched to run her fingers through it, and Peter took the opportunity to pull her closer. Once she was satisfied, she leaned against his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist.

They stood there until the water started to run cold. Olivia stepped out first and grabbed a towel. Peter shook his head like a wet dog, then opened his eyes and smiled at Olivia. Her nipples were crinkled from the chill, and her stomach was still flat as it had ever been, but when she smiled softly at him, he swore he could see the proverbial pregnant glow.

Almost as if she could read his mind, Olivia rolled her eyes at him, and tugged him out of the shower. She dried his back carefully, wincing at the technicolor bruises, then quickly dried herself and wrapped her damp hair in a towel.

"C'mon, Peter, I'm not carrying you to bed."

He blinked sleepily at her. "Can't you do your Jedi Knight thing again?"

Olivia glanced up at him worriedly, but his lazy smirk dispersed any thought of his concerns, at least for now. He walked over to 'his' side of her bed and looked at her expectantly, holding one corner of the duvet.

As he eased under the covers, he was still favoring his shoulder. He lay on his left side, and stretched his arm out for Olivia. She turned to face him, and stroked the side of his stubbled cheek. With his sleepy eyes and drowsy smile, he looked more like a little boy and less like the man she'd jumped from a helicopter with only hours before.

"If it's a boy," she whispered, "I hope he looks like you."

An unreadable expression crossed Peter's face, but it was gone too quickly for Olivia to interpret. Probably just their exhaustion, she thought, and too much happening in too short a time. Peter nuzzled her face, and kissed her gently.

"As long as you're ok. And he's ok. Or she." A goofy grin spread across Peter's face. "Or them."

Olivia ran her fingers through Peter's hair, then rolled over to nestle against him. "One at a time, Bishop, one at a time."

As she relaxed in his arms, Peter gingerly moved his right arm until his hand covered Olivia's belly. She smiled, and laced her fingers with his.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Hmm?" Peter responded sleepily.

"But let Walter wear the tux."

Peter grinned and pulled her incrementally closer.

They slept.


End file.
